His Discovery, His Choices
by Jadeica
Summary: He was made solely to love his Wife and Child, so what can he do when he finally has to choose between them? Here lies the sad tale of the Other Father. R&R?


The world they resided in was as old as its Mistress; it was also just as cruel. The residents of the world were not at all old in spirit, although most were in form, alas- or possibly it was a fortune- that they had not seen the world in its previous forms… not all of them. Every resident served puppet to the puppet-master, their creator and their worst nightmare; the only difference is that the puppets were of the 'Pinocchio' variety and may have became unruly, danced without their binding strings… and those were the puppets that found themselves burning as firewood- or in their case, scrap materials.

He had always been known as the 'Other Father' and he was her first creation. His purpose was to lure the unsuspecting flies into a web of despair and more certainly: Death. He was also made to love his 'family': his 'dear wife' and the 'fly' that they called their child. When the first child wondered into the web, he thought nothing bad of helping his 'dear wife' love their child, for he knew not of what she truly wanted of the child and thought that they would all soon be one big happy family. When the first child's soul was stolen and eaten by the spider that he called his wife, he knew not what to think… but he began to think outside the box that she had made as his obedient mind.

He knew what she had planned when the second child arrived at the house. The spider had changed his form with her needle of magic and an object that would influence his next personality. Now he looked like the new child's real father. He had been told that his real father was a bad man who made his child sad and that he needed to show her all his love in order to make her happy… so that they could 'be a loving family'. He didn't understand; how could they be a family, he thought, if mother keeps eating her young? However, together they successfully lured the young into the web with treats and toys and fun and successfully they stole the young boy's soul. At that moment, the Other Father experienced a feeling that he had previously had no concept of: Guilt.

The third child was a little girl who seemed shy and withdrawn. Her back had always been hunched whenever he saw her; perhaps she had something wrong with her? He wondered if his wife had something wrong with her too. He loved his wife no matter what she did- he was _made_ to love his wife- and their child- but surely what she was doing couldn't be normal? Was it the buttons? Was there something wrong with him too? Although he was not one to judge the concepts of 'normal' as he strode through his ever-changing residence and acted upon every order he was told from a child's worst enemy. This time there was another made to help the job run more smoothly; a button-eyed girl- her sister- was made to play with their third visitor. Watching their children play together in the garden made him smile and feel more than joyful inside… and for a small moment of time it made him forget was due to happen that night. For one moment he just wanted to shout out into the garden and tell her to run to the little door and never come back. For the first time, with the frown that had subconsciously appeared on his face, the cruel Mistress began to suspect something. When the little girl accepted the box of needle and thread and a pair of shiny buttons, the Other Father felt another emotion that he wasn't so sure of- of an emotion that made the skin under his buttons feel pressured and needing for release. For the first time, the Other Father wanted to cry in all sadness, guilt and frustration.

At the fourth child, the Other Father's body had been merged with an old pumpkin and he had been briefed to be musical, happy and _alive_; perhaps the Other Mother should have worded his orders differently. He had been given a garden that he would soon make into something the child would love and enjoy. He had also been given a new study and a baby piano to play. He loved it within an instant, and in that instant he felt lyrics begin to run rampant through his head, he felt the powerful music flow wildly through his veins; his mind had created symphonies in that instant and he just wanted to let them out and perform for their new daughter- to see her smile and laugh at his songs of daring adventures and hilarious comedy. He took his seat in front of his grand instrument and raised his arms to ready and play… but they never touched the keys. White gloves held onto his wrists with a tight embrace and he heard the sickingly sweet voice of his love coming from the doorway. "You don't really think I'd let you have free will, do you _Pumpkin_?" She had already taken on the form of the black-haired mother, a just as dark smile creeping up those scarlet lips. She was threatening him for the first time, threatening to take away his life-force and make him nothing more but a pile of sand, sack and a pair of dull black buttons. He knew that this would be his last form if he didn't act to orders… Perhaps he shouldn't act to orders? He didn't want to hurt any of those children and he most certainly didn't want to hurt this one. This time he would shout to the child he loved as his own daughter, he would tell her the intent and she could run for the door back to her world… He _would_ tell her if he didn't love his wife just as much, if he didn't want to betray her… if he wasn't so scared of his fate. The Other Father was scared of pain, and for once he could truly sympathise with the crying children as they had buttons stitched onto their eyeballs. He hoped this next child would be smart and see through the wicked spider's disguise; although he knew that even if she did, it wouldn't be so easy; Mother wouldn't give up without both _winning and cheating._

This time there had been three other residents made for the sake of this job: The first was Mr Bobinsky, the ringleader of a circus of jumping mice. The Other Father liked him and his concept, but the ringleader did not speak to him or step out of line; Mr Bobinsky knew not what was planned for the young girl. The second and third were a pair of old ladies who were not who they seemed to be; he spoke to them in passing, but they seemed to always argue with each other in a comedic fashion, one that even he had to smile at every time. The young sister from the last heist had been morphed into a young rusty-haired boy: the neighbour that the child seemed to have befriended. He would get to see his daughter play with another of her age again… and the urge to shout out came rushing back.

As the nights of the fourth went by, the girl became more suspicious of her Other Mother. In a previous song he had tried to warn her of the dangers in the best way possible, but he was certain that she hadn't picked up on them- which meant that she was figuring this out on her own… That was his girl! But alas the Other Mother grew angry with the child's disobedience and as the elongated time went by, she began to grow weaker and far more impatient. As the girl attempted to escape, the Other boy, 'Wybourn', had given his life to help her. This 'Wybie' was more of a man than the Other Father thought he ever could be… Soon the world began to lose its life and he had started to revert back into a mixture of the pumpkin he'd been made out of and a parody of his former self. Even the Other Mother had reverted to the nightmarish woman that she had always been hiding… it wouldn't be too long until she became that same old nightmarish monster.

He had hastily been placed into the garden at a time after that. He had been told that the girl had returned and he was to attack her upon sight, to keep one of the three souls of her- no, _their_- previous victims from her 'grubby paws'. He had tried to fight back, but had been knocked down with a vicious slap and strapped to a mantis tractor, bound by the same pair of retched gloves that had been used on the piano. He had to do as they said. And so he sat there motionless in the darkness as he waited for his daughter, he had gained a lot of time to think over things… He had never had a real soul of his own and here, sitting firmly on the joystick of the tractor was a soul that he had help to capture, a soul that he could give back in an attempt to repent for what he had done. At a time so dire, even his love for his wife could not overcome the blended feelings of hope and love for the girl that he would soon face. The Beldam did not expect this to happen, because she did not understand the concept of real love, or the concept of hope; she did not expect him to either. And so as the tractor sprung to life and he stared into the scared eyes of his lost children's saviour, he tried to apologize and proceeded to follow in the footsteps of the Other boy. He broke free long enough to throw her the soul and fall into the dying river.

He was proud of his daughter. He was proud of Coraline and he knew for certain that she would escape. But he wished in those last sinking moments that she could truly understand that he really loved her.


End file.
